


At Least For Now

by LetItRaines



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Just a short little thing, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:12:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: Detective Killian Jones is fond of his partner on the force, David Nolan. They work well together, and he thinks it's a nice partnership. He's also fond of David's sister...who he didn't realize was David's sister when they met. He and Emma have an entirely different kind of partnership that David knows nothing about. At least for now.





	1. Chapter One

If he has to work one more night shift this month he thinks he might go delusional from sleep deprivation. That’s not normal, and it’s definitely not healthy for a detective. If he’s tired, he can’t do his job correctly. And if can’t do his job correctly, people get hurt, and that’s not okay. He became a cop (and then now a detective) to protect people, and while he realizes not everyone is like that, he is. He wants to be someone who people can rely on. Someone who Liam could have relied on when he was still alive. Someone who would make Liam proud.

 

He knows that his brother had his faults, that he could be a pompous arsehole who thought he knew best when he didn’t, but he was still the man who raised him, still his hero, still the man who he wants to make proud. So he strives for that every damn day, even on the days where he doesn’t feel like it. Maybe especially on the days that he doesn’t feel like it. His world was dark for years after his brother’s death, like a hole had been dug that could never be filled, and it was just now starting to brighten up again, the sun shining a little brighter and the skies seeming to be a little less gray. He can’t pinpoint why exactly that is, or maybe he can. He’s not entirely sure, but if there’s anything he’s learned, it’s that you can’t question why things happen or you might drive yourself mad looking for the answers for the rest of your life.

 

Walking out of the precinct into the cold winter air swirling under the inky black sky wakes him from his musings, his leather jacket not doing nearly enough to keep him warm while he walks the few blocks to his apartment, the air nipping at the tips of his ears and turning them red the longer he stays outside. It’s nearing four in the morning now, and while most of the city is likely asleep, getting those last few precious hours, he’s just trying to get home so he can get to sleep for the first time since…well, since two days ago. He’d picked up a double the day before for the overtime pay only to get transferred to the night shift today, a combination which he’d never like to relive. The pay was most definitely not worth it. It helps, but it’s not worth it.

 

Even as his eyelids droop and his legs begin to shake from weariness, he powers through until he’s unlocking the gate to his building and walking up several flights of stairs to his apartment. It’s not much, but it’s his. It’s his, and he’s got separate rooms for his kitchen and living room, the both of them with matching furniture, and that had never happened before in his thirty-two years of living until he signed the lease on this place. There are even built-in bookshelves for all of his novels and collections of miscellaneous treasures (someone else might call it junk, but he calls them treasures). He loves this damn place, and he can think of very little that’d make him leave it.

 

The fact that he can walk to work is most definitely a bonus because the only vehicle he has is his cruiser, having not gotten upgraded to an undercover car yet, and that’s not exactly something he wants to drive around when he’s simply going to buy groceries. He may be proud of what he does, but he knows that a lot of people aren’t. He has to be on the lookout the entire time when in uniform. Though, he doesn’t wear a uniform much lately, getting to wear his own clothes, but he wore that damned blue thing for years. It’s difficult to forget that he doesn’t wear it anymore.

 

Shucking off his sweater and jeans, his jacket long discarded on the coat rack by the front door, and crawling into bed after quickly brushing his teeth, he gets under the covers and tangles his hairy legs with the warm body sleeping, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other goes under her pillow as he kisses her bare shoulder.

 

“Hey, baby,” she whispers, and he should have known she’d wake up with all of his jostling around. “How was work?”

 

He hums, breathing in her scent. He hasn’t seen her in days, and he likely shouldn’t be seeing her now. She should be asleep. “You should go to sleep, love. It’s still early.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep until you got home.”

 

“I know you were asleep when I got in.”

 

“That’s not the…not th – the point.”

 

He chuckles against her neck before pressing another kiss against her shoulder. She’s not going to remember any of this in the morning, more yawns emerging from her mouth than words. “G’night, love.”

 

When he wakes later, the pounding of his head and the aching of his body telling him that it hasn’t been long since he fell asleep, it’s to the sound of Emma’s awful ring tone blaring in his ear, the high-pitched shrills of the Spice Girls making him know that it’s David calling her (there’s a story there, and he’s never quite been sure what it is). Groaning, he shakes Emma awake so that she can answer and make it stop. It’s too early for him to tell anyone what he wants, what he really, really wants.

 

Actually, he really wants the song to stop.

 

“Ow, shit, Killian. What was that for?”

 

“Answer your phone, Swan. It could be important.”

 

She rolls her eyes, and how is she the one who is cranky this morning? She got sleep last night. “It’s just David.”

 

“Your brother is important.”

 

“You only think that because he’s your friend.”

 

“And my partner most days. He keeps me alive. Answer the phone, darling.”

 

“Fine,” she grumbles, rolling over in bed to grab the phone before she looks at him and pokes him in the stomach. “Be quiet.”

 

He does a mock bow from his lounged position in the bed, and she rolls her eyes again, the feisty lass. “If the lady, insists.”

 

Emma keeps her phone volume so loud that he can hear David’s hasty greeting of “Hello.”

 

“David, what the hell are you doing calling me at eight in the morning on a Saturday?”

 

“I’m at your apartment, and you won’t answer the door.”

 

Oh shit. What the hell is he doing at her apartment? Killian immediately sits up, his head pounding at the movement, before he scoots closer so he can hear more of this conversation.

 

“Why are you at my apartment?”

 

“Why aren’t you answering the door?”

 

“I asked you first.”

 

He smiles at their bickering before grabbing Emma and pulling her into his lap, a quiet squeal escaping her lips, and he already knows that he’s going to pay for that later. He doesn’t really bloody care, though, nestling her over his thighs and wrapping his arms around her stomach before resting his head on her free shoulder as she talks to David.

 

“Fine. I wanted to see if you wanted to get breakfast.”

 

“And you couldn’t have called first?”

 

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

 

Emma sighs, and all Killian can think is that no one should ever attempt to surprise Emma Swan before noon. David should really know that. He’s known her for longer than anyone. “You should have called.”

 

“Just answer the door, Emma.”

 

“You’ve got to lie, love,” he whispers in her other ear, and he smirks at the obvious shiver that runs through her body when he rubs his chin against her neck, his facial hair leaving prickles against her skin.

 

“I, uh, I can’t,” she answers, and there’s a lass. Though, that’s technically the truth.

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“I’m not at home.”

 

“If you’re not at home, where are you?”

 

“Oh, uh, I’m well…I’m at a guy’s apartment.”

 

Okay, but where the hell is she going with this? She should have just said she was at the gym. They both know that David won’t show up at her gym.

 

“You had a one-night stand, and you’re still there? In the morning? Are you okay?”

 

“What makes you think it’s a one-night stand?”

 

“C’mon, Ems. It’s you. You’re the one always saying you don’t do more than one night.”

 

Emma sighs, and he starts rubbing her stomach, nuzzling her shoulder with the hairs of his chin again before pressing several quiet kisses there. If there’s anything she hates, it’s her brother going on and on about her relationships. He can be a judgmental prick, and it riles Emma up like nothing else. It riles Killian up, too. He’s known David long enough to know all of his faults, but he’s not in love with the man so things aren’t always sugarcoated between the two of them. Hell, he’s in love with Emma, and things aren’t sugarcoated between the two of them either. But he doesn’t think she’s a judgmental prick, so that likely bodes well for the two of them.

 

“That’s still kind of judgmental, David. You know that? I could be dating someone.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“No,” she lies, and she squeezes her hand over his to reassure him.

 

“So no breakfast?”

 

“No breakfast. I’ll call you later, okay?”

 

When Emma hangs up the phone she removes herself from his arms and flops down onto the bed, her face hitting the pillow so hard that if this were years ago, feathers would pop out of it and gently fall to the ground. She mumbles something into the pillow, but he doesn’t know what. It all simply sounds like nonsense to him, but he’s sure that it’s frustrations over her brother. They’re close, but they have their own set of issues, which is preciously why the two of them have been dating for so long with no one knowing. Of course, there are those pesky little issues about he and David as well. They probably should have fessed up months ago, but they’ve gotten comfortable in it just being them without outside prying eyes.

 

Emma once said it was like she was living in a fishbowl or a television screen in her last few relationships. Everyone was far too nosy and involved, making remarks and judgments and asking for details she wasn’t comfortable sharing. David’s incredibly protective of her, and he knows that it’s for good reason. But damn. There’s a difference between being protective and being overbearing. Protective is caring that someone you love is happy and doesn’t get hurt. Overbearing is giving those idiotic “if you hurt her, I’ll kill you” speeches. Yeah, there’s a bit of novelty behind them, but it’s basically the verbal equivalent of someone sitting on a front porch with a shotgun and threatening to shoot their daughter’s date if he brings her home one minute past ten at night. What the hell? He’s pretty sure he can arrest someone for that.

 

Apparently, David took it too far in her last relationship, not only giving the speech once, but doing it nearly every damn time he saw the guy, August, as well as going so far as to do a background search on the guy at work. Emma had been so pissed that she’d shared her feelings about it with August. And why shouldn’t she? He was her boyfriend. She should have been able to share her feelings with her boyfriend, but August had said he couldn’t deal with all of the pressure from her family, going so far as to say that David isn’t even her real brother. Killian knows that if August hadn’t already broken up with her, she would have broken up with him then, regardless of her feelings about her brother at the moment.

 

Possibly broken his nose, too.

 

Liam was once the overprotective arsehole of a brother, and Killian would give anything to have him back. He would even take back his pompous ways. He’d hate them as much as he once did and as much as Emma hates David’s, but he’d give anything to have him back. He’d probably just want him to realize that he’s an adult man who can make his own choices.

 

A lot of people seem to need to realize that.

 

He knows that David’s protective of Emma because of Neal. He gets it. He wants to be the same way with her after knowing what the bastard did, but to David, if David knew that they were together, he’d go from seeing Killian as a friend and a coworker to someone who has the ability to hurt his sister. It’s idiotic, but some people just don’t change their ways or see reason when it comes to the people they love.

 

He met David Nolan on his first day after the police academy, the man a year older with three year’s more work experience, and he’d reluctantly began a friendship with him. If they were going to be working together, they might as well get along. David just didn’t seem to be his typical type of friend. He was too clean cut, clean shaven. The type of man who wears beige sweaters and slacks because he likes them and likes the easy routine of it. There’s not anything wrong with it, but it’s like the man doesn’t have any broken edges. Everything was in a straight line, and Killian just didn’t work that way.

 

He was too rough around the edges, too dark and broken from the loss of every member of his family to different tragedies (in the case of his father maybe a blessing), and he didn’t see all of the hope that David saw in the world. He didn’t know how the man could with all of the evil and unfortunate situations that they see every day from their job, and he really didn’t understand after finding out David had grown up in foster care. He had been abandoned, so much like Killian, and yet he still saw good so easily.

 

But then Killian met David’s wife, and it suddenly all made sense. Mary Margaret was someone who could probably create rainbows in the middle of the night without a lick of rain and turn even the most prickly of people into teddy bears. So a Kindergarten teacher and a cop had found each other, and if that wasn’t the most Hallmark thing he’d ever seen he doesn’t know what is.

 

Eventually the side of him that judged the Nolans began to wane, and they became his friends. His best friends. Over Robin and Will and everyone else.

 

But then he met Emma Swan, and everything he knew was flipped on its head.

 

Funnily enough, he didn’t meet her through David. He met her at the gym, the one David doesn’t go to because all they do there is practice boxing, and he doesn’t see the point of it. He’d been paired as her sparring partner for the day when both of their usual partners had to miss for their own reasons. Thank God for Robin’s dentist appointment and Ruby’s date.

 

_“You can hit me harder than that. It’s just through the gloves, and I’m not going to break if you put a little force into it, Jones.”_

_“Who says I’m holding back?"_

 

_She quirks her eyebrows, and he’s not at all distracted by the fact that she’s in nothing but a sports bra and leggings, the sweat covering her chest making him think of other ways he could cause her to sweat. It’s bloody distracting, and while he knows it’s the reason he’s holding back, Swan (she hadn’t told him her first name, and it’s driving him mad) most likely thinks he’s holding back because she’s a lass._

_He bloody well can’t tell her the truth, but the lie doesn’t exactly work in his favor either. He’s either thinking about having her writhe underneath him while he pumps himself into her or he’s a sexist prick who won’t punch a woman during training. So he’s pretty much screwed with this lass. But, you know, not in a good way._

_“If this is your full strength, you need to talk to the owner and get a refund on your membership because you’ve got to be better than this, Jones.”_

_“Is that a challenge, love?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Well,” he smirks, throwing his arm with a bit more force until it smacks against her glove, “I do love a challenge.”_

_The rest of their practice goes extraordinarily well, even when Emma “slips up” and punches him in the face, and as they sit on a bench behind all of the punching bags drinking water, the both of them drenched in sweat, they finally introduce themselves._

_“Killian. My first name is Killian Jones. I feel like anyone who punches me in the face should at least know my full name.”_

_She laughs before taking another sip of water, and he most definitely does not watch as the water travels down her throat, matching the beads of sweat still dripping from her body._

_“Emma Swan. I feel like anyone who I’ve punched in the face should at least know my full name. Though, that’s not always the case with me.”_

_Nothing further happens between the two of them that day, but when he gets to work later that afternoon, he’s apparently got a smile plastered onto his face._

_“You get laid, Jones?” David teases almost as soon he settles down at his desk, booting the computer up, and he must look like some kind of flushed maniac. He’s met the woman once, but he’s fascinated by her._

_“None of your business, Nolan.”_

_“Then maybe you shouldn’t come waltzing in here still covered in a bit of sweat and with your cheeks blushing like a kid with his first crush.”_

_Later as he and David go out to patrol, David nudges his shoulder. “So you like this girl of yours?”_

_“She’s, uh, she’s not mine, but I think I do.”_

_He sees her at the gym on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and he asks her out to lunch (dinner seemed to be a bit too much for some reason), three weeks after they’d practiced together. She says yes, mostly with the urging of her friend Ruby, and he walks out of the gym with a pep in his step that no man who just worked out for over an hour should have. It’s unnatural, but a woman can do that to a man._

_At least, Emma can do that to him._

_She meets him at a little Italian Bistro, and while he’s only ever seen her covered in a heavy sheen of sweat in skin tight spandex (thank you whoever created that), he’s just as attracted to her when she shows up in jeans and a white blouse that shows her bare shoulders, freckles sprinkled across them, and little brown boots with heels that make them nearly the same height. Her hair is down and flowing instead of being pulled into a tight ponytail, and he hasn’t been this attracted to a woman since Milah, which is more likely a bad thing than a good thing. He simply doesn’t care right now._

_“Good afternoon, love. It’s nice to see you outside of the gym. You look much kinder.”_

_He goes in to press his lips against her cheek, the skin soft under the touch of his lips, and she smells like vanilla when she doesn’t smell like sweat. When he pulls back from her, a slight blush is rising in her cheeks, and something settles into his stomach._

_“I can still punch you outside of the gym, Jones.”_

_He winks. “I look forward to it.”_

_She’s funny. Like, seriously funny, and he doesn’t just laugh at her jokes or at her stories because he likes her. He laughs because he finds her stories amusing. He reads people as a part of his job, and to him, she’s an open book. She’s obviously holding a lot back, but it’s a first date. She’s not supposed to share all of her dirty little secrets. He sure as hell isn’t going to share all of his._

_She’s a bail bondsperson, and no part of him is surprised. She’s a tough lass, and anyone being brought in by her is in a load of trouble._

_“So what do you do?” she questions, taking a bite of her pasta._

_“I’m a cop,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his beer and smiling when he puts it back down on the table. “I cover the west district.”_

_Her demeanor changes when he says that, and he’s got no idea what he said wrong. But he obviously said something wrong._

_“Do you, uh, do you know David Nolan?”_

_“Aye, he’s my partner.”_

_Her eyes go wide and her gulp is so obvious that he can practically feel it. He’s got no bloody clue what’s going on, but all he knows is this thing between them that’s barely started is already over._

_“I’m sorry,” she says as she stands from her chair, wiping her hands on her jeans. “I can’t do this. It’s not you, I swear. And that’s not some excuse. This is one hundred percent me, and this has been, um, a one-time thing. Thanks for lunch, but please don’t call me again. I’m sorry.”_

_And then she’s practically sprinting out of the restaurant, and he has no idea what the hell has just happened._

_The waitress gives him a pitying look when he slaps some cash down on the table, not bothering to wait on having his debit card run through the system, and while he’s had dates far worse than this, this one is really and truly stinging right now. Why would she just get up and run away like that?_

_The kicker of the whole thing is that they were going to go to the gym after this. But he doesn’t really need to be punching something when he feels like he’s just been punched in the gut himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically a prompt story that I got about Emma and Killian being in a secret relationship without David (Emma's brother here) knowing. I got about four of these, all with different little details, so I've made it a little multi-chapter to get it all in instead of putting it in the prompt work "If You Ask Nicely." It shouldn't be too long, and I've got it all plotted out! I hope you enjoy :D


	2. Chapter Two

“Ugh,” she groans into her pillow, not even caring how dramatic she is, but her brother should goddamn call _before_ showing up to her apartment and not call _after_ he’s shown up to her apartment. There’s a reason he doesn’t have a key, and it’s because she doesn’t want him showing up unannounced on Saturday mornings when she’s with her boyfriend…who David most definitely does not know about. Of course, she hasn’t been back to her apartment but to get clothes in the past few weeks, so it probably looks like a ghost town in there.

 

A very dusty ghost town.

 

It was probably like that when she lived there, too. At least before Killian. He never allowed too much dust to accumulate. Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night and find him organizing her closet or dusting her ceiling fan, which was always odd because he’d be standing on the bed dusting while she attempted to sleep in that very same bed, the weirdo. She’s by no means a slob, but her boyfriend is like some kind of cleanliness freak, which has become much more obvious now that she’s been living with him full time.

 

She didn’t even realize she was basically living with Killian until she stopped taking her groceries to her apartment and left them here instead, going so far as to ask Killian what he wants and making a joint list for the two of them. It was…jarring, but when she sat down with him for dinner that night, takeout because she’d totally forgotten to go grocery shopping after the realization hit her that she was living with her boyfriend of a little under a year. She’s never lived with a guy before him, not like this. She was either too young or the relationship didn’t last long enough, and it was freaky.

 

Freaky is not the best word for it. Freaking the fuck out is better.

 

_“Are we living together?” she blurts out, and the damn bastard doesn’t even seem surprised by her question. He just shrugs and goes on eating his rice._

_“Do you want to be living together?”_

_“Do you?”_

_“Yeah,” he admits, taking a bite of his chicken instead and chewing while she processes everything. “I mean, you stay here almost every night of the week, Swan. It’s kind of weird when you’re not here. My closet is full of your stuff. You moved your favorite pillow here, and right now you’re sitting in the living room wrapped up in a blanket from your place. I just kind of thought it was natural.”_

_Huh. He just thinks it’s kind of natural. Is it? Can something like this be so natural? She guesses that it can even if she thought that it had to be this whole big thing. Isn’t it supposed to be a big thing? Like with nervous talks and exchanging of permanent keys and all that jazz?_

_“Well okay then. I guess we’re living together. That seems simpler than it should be.”_

_He smiles at her, one of his soft smiles that he only uses when he’s trying to comfort her, and it makes the erratic beating of her heart calm to a normal rate._

_“It doesn’t have to be hard, love.”_

But it’s not freaky now. Or she’s not freaking the fuck out now. Sometimes it’s still a little freaky when she thinks she’s home alone and Killian pops up out of nowhere talking about how they need to buy new sheets because his are getting old. She’s almost entirely used to it, the random surprises of him being home aside, and when her lease runs out in two months, she’s not going to renew it. So Killian is the least of her problems. Actually, he’s not a problem for her in the slightest.

 

“Your brother simply wanted to have breakfast with you, Swan,” Killian soothes, reaching down to rub her back, and he’s got to be exhausted. He’s barely slept in days. She’s pretty sure that his job is trying to kill him through exhaustion. “There’s no need to work yourself up over it.”

 

“It’s not…it’s not that.” She rolls over on her side so that she can look at him before crawling over him and turning off the table lamp he’d turned on during her call. “And lay down with me, babe. You’re tired.”

 

“I’m not that tired.”

 

He’s not tired, her ass. He’s exhausted, and it’s written all over his face with the way that his eyelids are hooded and the bags underneath are almost bruised purple.

 

“You came in way past four, and you’d been working for days straight. You need to sleep.” She inches closer until she pulls him down, knowing that she’s not really the one moving him, and then wraps her arms around his body as he does the same. “And if you do, I’ll make it worth your while later.”  
  
“Worth my while how?”

 

“Use your imagination, Officer Jones.”

 

“Is the use of my title an indication?”

 

“No,” she laughs, kissing him before snuggling back down into the blankets, “but also maybe. Guess you’ll have to catch up on sleep to find out.”

 

He practically growls as he burrows himself under the comforter, and he’s trying to be frustrated while he looks like a burrito. It’s not really working for her. “Don’t think we’re not continuing this conversation about why you’re frustrated with David, Swan.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

_Shit. How does he know David? How does he fucking know David? Can’t something in her life not be related to her brother? She’s not even damn related to her brother, but he’s everywhere. And she loves him. She really does. But he’s too much into her life, too involved, too judgmental, too protective. Just, too much. So all she wanted was to go on a date with a nice, attractive guy and not have her brother be all…David about it, but apparently nothing is going to work out._

_Of course, David doesn’t even know about the date yet, so this is most definitely all her. She’s the one who freaked out and left after finding out what Killian does, and David had nothing to do with it…okay, he had a little to do with it. He just doesn’t know that._

_She definitely shouldn’t have left Killian at the restaurant. That was, well, that was fucked up of her, but knowing that he’s partners with David really screwed her up. How much more closely related could she get to a guy knowing her brother than the guy actually working with her brother every single day? The guilt of ditching Killian at the restaurant settles in her belly, like a heavy weight, and crap, she messed up. She hurt a nice guy because she has issues, and he probably deserves to punch her in the face like she did when they first met._

_It was an accident, she swears._

_Ditching him at the restaurant, however, was a choice. A horrible, messed up choice._

_She stops in her tracks, causing all of the people behind her to curse her out because what kind of jerk stops walking in the middle of the city when there’s hordes of people around her? Probably the same kind of jerk who ditches a guy during the middle of a really good date._

_Emma. Emma is that kind of jerk. She has to apologize, doesn’t she? She can’t just run away and not even explain things._

_She could if she were eighteen, but she’s twenty-eight and needs to be an adult._

_Being an adult sucks._

_Okay, so maybe she still sounds a bit like she’s eighteen._

_“Fuck,” she groans, turning on her feet and practically jogging back to the restaurant. It didn’t take her long to start to feel guilty over running out on her date, on Killian, but it probably took long enough that he’s removed himself from the building. And she’s right because he’s not there, their table cleared of all of its food and occupants. She screwed up. God, she screwed up again. She’s got to stop doing that._

_Pulling out her phone, she calls him, figuring he won’t pick up, but something inside of her is eating her up alive, and she has to fix this. Even if this guy hates her forever, she can at least try not to be such an asshole…okay, so she can apologize for being an asshole to begin with._

_“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she groans into the phone, not hearing the ringing stopping and Killian’s voice coming through._

_“Lass, I picked up. You can stop chanting now.”_

_He doesn’t sound mad. He sounds…disappointed. Isn’t that how a parent is supposed to sound? She wouldn’t really know, but she can imagine._

_“Um, hi. Would you happen to still be in the area of the restaurant?”_

_“You planning on ditching me again?”_

_She cringes, feeling like she’s been slapped, and she deserves that. She deserves worse than that. “I want to apologize and explain, even if my explanation doesn’t excuse my actions.”_

_He’s silent on the other side of the line, until she hears a bitter sigh, one that she can practically feel run through her. “I’m only two blocks away. Meet me at Deering Oaks, okay?”_

_He’s standing at the entrance to the park when she gets there, and he looks pissed, his normally kind features contorted in anger. He probably is pissed, and now would be a really good time for him to punch her in the face for payback._

_“Hi,” she timidly greets him, crossing her arms over her chest to somehow protect herself from his icy gaze. “Do you want to take a walk?”_

_“Sounds lovely.”_

_The first five minutes and thirty-seven seconds of their walk are silent until she spills her guts. Metaphorically not literally. Though she did feel pretty nauseous during the walk, but that was probably just nerves. She spills her guts over David being her brother and how he’s part of the reason she ran away from their lunch. She also apologizes for that several times, probably more than she can count, and she shares more with this man she barely knows than she would with someone she’s been together with for a year. Ten years ago she would have never done this. She would have run away and not thought twice about it, but she’s trying to be a normal adult, one without a tragic backstory of foster homes and betrayals, and that means owning up to her mistakes, even if she’d rather go swimming in the dirty pond in the middle of this park._

_So she tells him about Neal, about how he set her up for his crime and then ditched her, about how she spent four months in prison before David managed to get her out by spending all of his savings to hire a lawyer who could prove her innocence. And then she tells him about how David has been so damn protective and overbearing over her that she hasn’t been able to be in a real relationship since. She’s managed to deal with her own scars enough to want to be in a relationship again, and her brother scares everyone off before she can get past a second date._

_“He sounds like he loves you a lot, Swan.”_

_“He does. And I love him, but it’s like he can’t stop protecting me to the point where he’s actually hurting me. And I’ve talked to him about it, obviously, but you know him. I mean, you spend more time with him than I do. He protects people for a living. It’s in his blood, and I don’t know how to get it to stop.”_

_“So you’re scared of dating me because David would know about it?”_

_“Yes,” she sighs, and she feels ridiculous, “exactly. And that’s not fair to you or me because you two probably get along really well, and I’d put a wedge between the two of you. And I can’t ruin your professional life simply because I like you.”_

_He stops walking then, grabbing onto her wrist and pulling her back to him so that she’s only resting a few inches away, her chest heaving from the shock of being pulled toward him and from being so near to him, near to his gaze._

_“So you do like me?” he questions, his hands moving to rest on her hips and pulling her closer to him, all of his normal suave and swagger back as he smirks down at her. Her heart is most definitely not in her chest anymore. It’s possibly in her stomach or mixing in with her kidneys. She only has a GED. She’s not too sure about anatomy. Unless, you know, it’s Grey’s Anatomy._

_“Did I say that?”_

_“You did. And if I may be forward, love, I’d be willing to go on several more dates with you…ones where you don’t run away, and I wouldn’t tell David a thing until we were both sure that I wouldn’t be chased off by his grizzly overbearing demeanor, yeah?”_

_And then he kisses her._

When she wakes, Killian’s sitting up in bed messing around on his phone, fingers flying across the screen. He hasn’t slept for days, basically, and he still wakes up before her. How the hell does he do that? Or better yet, why the hell does he do that? He should be asleep. Any normal person would be asleep.

 

Killian is obviously not normal.

 

“Good afternoon, sunshine,” he greets, cheery smile on his face, and the bastard even took a shower while she was sleeping. “You get enough sleep?”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs even as she burrows further into the mattress. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

 

He reaches over to run his hands along her hair, the feeling soothing, and he should do this more often. “You’ve been out most every night on a stakeout. It’s to be expected.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been working a lot lately too, and you still woke up before me. And showered.”

 

“Aye, and that’s because I’ve already had coffee.”

 

She slaps his stomach before rolling out of bed and heading to the kitchen because if Killian’s had coffee it means there’s still a warm pot waiting on the counter. And if there’s not, well, she’s going to get Killian to walk down the block and buy her a latte from Starbucks. Or just do the simple thing and make herself a pot.

 

Making Killian do things is just so much more fun.

 

But luckily there is some still sitting in the pot, and as she inhales the warm, delicious scent of it, she practically sighs in relief and anticipation of the caffeine running down her throat and coursing through her veins.

 

“That trick gets you out of bed every time, you know that?”

 

“I do, and I don’t even care.”

 

“Good. So you want to tell me what’s going on with you and David?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Swan.”

 

“Jones.”

 

“Emma Addison Swan.”

 

“That’s not my middle name and you know it, Killian Oliver Jones.”

 

Killian sighs before crossing his arms and leaning against the stovetop, his body pressing into the counter in the same way that hers is. “Yes, I know. You don’t have a middle name while I do, but it’s always a good way to rile you up. Now tell me what’s got you so cross about your brother now.”

 

He’s going to make her talk even if she doesn’t want to, and while having a boyfriend to share her feelings with is fantastic, it also means that she has no excuses as to not share her feelings…which she does not like most of the time. Sometimes it’s simply easier to share than to protests, so she takes a sip of her coffee, using it to give herself more time, before speaking.

 

“I feel guilty over not telling him about us. I think it was the right decision, but it’s gone on for so long now, Killian. We’re living together, and my brother doesn’t know we’re dating. He’s going to flip out now more than he would have had we told him earlier on.”

 

Killian nods his head in agreement before he crosses his arms over his chest and ticks his jaw in the way that he always does when he’s thinking. “Aye, I’ve thought the same thing, but it’ll just be a momentary freak out. He’ll be pissed for awhile, but he’s a grown man. We’re grown as well in case you forget, and your brother should be able to understand that. And he’s a pal, so it’s not like he’s going to hate me.”

 

She snorts because he really should know David better.

 

“Do you even know David? He’s ridiculous.”

 

“Aye, but again, momentary freak out, love. If anything, he should be thrilled that we’re both happy.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

He comes toward her and places his hand against her hip, squeezing her bone, while his lips press against her forehead, soft compared to the prickliness of the scruff on his chin. Her eyes flutter closed at the contact, and it’s not fair how a simple touch from him can calm her.

 

“No matter what, darling, everything is going to be alright.”

 

The next few days pass as normal with their regular routines getting back into place. She and Killian go to work, they come home from work at times that in no way match up with each other, and they try to spend time together that’s more than simply falling asleep in the same bed for a few hours at a time. Their jobs don’t exactly help them see each other, especially since Killian works different shifts depending on the day of the week and she works whenever she needs to, and with how busy they are, figuring out a time to tell David about the two of them becomes more difficult than they thought it would be. Every time they figure something out, one of them has to work, and frustrated tears begin to sting at the back of her eyes because she should have just told him after she and Killian had gotten together. But she’d been so happy, happier than she’d ever been, and she didn’t want to risk anything ruining it.

 

But now she’s sitting in their apartment by herself while Killian is at work, and she can’t stop thinking about being honest with David. What would happen if she barged into their precinct and kissed Killian in front of David…and all of their coworkers? Okay, so that would be unprofessional, and she definitely can’t do that. Maybe they should just go to dinner with David and tell him then. That seems like the logical thing to do, and she hasn’t been thinking logically lately.

 

**10:03 AM: What time does your shift end today, babe?**

**10:15 AM: If you and David get off at the same time, maybe we can bite the bullet and take him to dinner tonight?**

**12:47 PM: We’ve got to pay the cable bill, and they won’t let me pay it since it’s in your name.**

**3:04: Hey, you didn’t call me at lunch! Did you not take your break today?**

**5:39: Obviously you’re in the field and don’t have your phone. I’m not doing a stakeout tonight after all. See you when you get home. Love you!**

Killian not answering his phone at all throughout the day has been driving her crazy, and while she usually isn’t one who’s always attached to her phone, she’s been bored to death today and wanting him to call or text her back. If he’s working during the day, he always calls during his lunch break, usually walking home to the apartment to eat if she’s home during the day, and this radio silence from him all day has been odd.

 

Her phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, indicating that a call is coming in instead of a text, and she practically leaps over, sliding her finger across the screen and answering before she can even look at who’s calling.

 

“Hello,” she mumbles into the phone, her voice coming out hoarse and tired like she hasn’t used it all day, which, she hasn’t.

 

“Hey, Ems,” David greets, and he doesn’t sound nearly as cheery as he usually does. “How was your day?”

 

“Long,” she answers truthfully, walking from the kitchen to settle down onto the sofa in the living room. “What about you?”

 

“Same. I’m just leaving the hospital now.”

 

“Why were you at the hospital? Is Mary Margaret okay? Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he reassures, and her heartbeat calms from its erratic beats, though she does feel like she could throw up from the fear that something was wrong with one of them. She doesn’t know what she’d do if something happened to either of them. “My partner, you know Killian, right?” She hums in acknowledgment because she can’t speak. Words aren’t physically forming in her brain, and her entire body pulsates as her breathing stops before David can even speak again when she realizes where he’s going with this. “He just got shot in the line of duty today, and I was there checking on him after his surgery. He’s still pretty out of it, though. Not really awake.”

 

Bile rises in her throat as she realizes what David just said, and she vomits all over the rug, not being able to stop until everything she’s eaten is on the carpet and her shoes and she’s left dry heaving with the sounds of David’s voice coming through her speakers. She can’t…she can’t breathe. Killian’s in the hospital. Killian’s been fucking shot, and she didn’t know. No one told her because she’s not his emergency contact. She should be his emergency contact.

 

She should be with him right now.

 

“Killian?” she practically screeches into the phone, ignoring all of David’s questions about what that noise was. “Killian was shot?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry? Come yell (or just chat) at me on Tumblr as let-it-raines or keep sending me prompts! You never know which one I'll do next! :D


	3. Chapter Three

“Killian?” she practically screeches into the phone, ignoring all of David’s questions about what that noise was. “Killian was shot?”

 

“Yeah, right in his shoulder. But he’s fine. He’s probably just going to lose a little mobility. Maybe for a few weeks. Maybe permanent. The doctors don’t know. They have to run more tests and see how he’s functioning when he fully wakes up, but from what I got from the Captain and doctors, they got the bullet out without a lot of complications.”

 

She has so many questions, but all she can think about is that she needs to be with Killian. She has to see him. She has to see that he’s okay, and right now she’s not sure she can see through the tears in her eyes or even speak more than a few words without the bile in her throat rising higher and ending up on the rug again. Killian really likes this rug. She does, too.

 

“What hospital is he in?”

 

“The Medical Center. Why? Emma, why did it sound like you were vomiting earlier? Are you sick? I can bring you soup. You don’t have to be alone.”

 

The last words sting even though David doesn’t mean for them to be. She’s not alone, hasn’t been alone in a long time, but right now she may as well be the only person in the world with how incredibly small she feels.

 

“I’m going to send flowers,” she lies as she tries to come up with how to explain the vomiting thing. It’s kind of hard to lie when her entire world is crashing down around her, the sharp pieces of her broken heart cutting her. “And I ate bad sushi last night. You don’t want to know. I’ve got to let you go, though. Um, work stuff. Give Marg my love.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Let me know if you need something. Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

All she wants to do is go to the hospital, but she can’t leave vomit everyone. Killian won’t like that when he comes home, and he’s most definitely coming home. She refuses to accept anything else. David said he was fine, right? That he was already out of surgery? That means he’s okay. It has to mean that he’s okay. David barely sounded concerned, and he’s not heartless. He cares for Killian. They’re friends, and if he wasn’t distraught and worried about Killian then that means Killian is okay. She can’t think any other way.

 

So she scrubs up her own puke, glad that there’s nothing left in her stomach because this is disgusting, and after she gets the rug mostly clean, knowing they’re most likely going to have to throw it out because she’ll always think of that phone call when she sees it, she brushes her teeth as she takes a shower, letting the hot water run over her, not even feeling it. She’s numb. Every part of her is numb, and she knows that it’s shock. She does, but there’s nothing she can do about it. She has to get to Killian. Logically she knows he has to be okay, but she needs to see him before she can confirm and get rid of this awful feeling that’s filling the emptiness in her stomach.

 

_She needs to see him._

 

So she gets out of the shower and doesn’t bother drying herself off, slipping into leggings and one of his sweaters before packing up his favorite pajama pants and pillow, not knowing how long he’s going to be there. But he’d like some of his favorite things, right? Yeah, he would. She wants him to be comfortable, and this has got to help. She has no idea how much pain he must be in right now, and while pajama pants likely won’t help, it’s the only thing she can think of.

 

She can’t drive. She already knows that. She’s aware of herself enough to know that she shouldn’t be operating any heavy machinery, so she gets an Uber, not caring how much it costs, and loads up into the car, her mind running so quickly that she can’t comprehend a single thing until she’s at the entrance of the hospital and running inside, her bag dragging on the floor behind her. She must look like a damn crazy person, her hair curling wildly and her outfit mismatched with splotchy red eyes and a gaunt face from the vomit.

 

“Killian Jones,” she breathes to the receptionist. “Can you tell me what room Killian Jones is in?”

 

“Are you family?”

 

“Yes,” she admits without hesitation.

 

“Do you have proof of that?”

 

“Look, lady, I know that you’re just doing your job. I get that. But the love of my life got shot today and is in a hospital bed in this hospital, and I will knock on every damn door in this building to find him. Or you can give me his room number, and we won’t have any issues.”

 

The woman, she peers to look at her name tag, Katherine, seems to think about it, studying Emma with such creepy eyes that a chill runs down her spine, before typing something into the computer. God, she hopes she isn’t calling security or something like that. If she is, she’ll likely fight them off.

 

She really can’t get arrested again, especially for assault, and she’s obviously gone crazy.

 

“He’s in room 617, miss.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma sighs, already feeling better than she has for the past hour or so. “I’m sorry if I seem a bit…crazy. I was in the shower when I got the call, and I didn’t get all of the information. So yeah.”

 

Katherine simply hums, and obviously she’s done with this conversation. Why the hell is she working at the front desk of a hospital? They should get someone more sympathetic to people freaking out and having to lie to make themselves seem less crazy. Her lie likely didn’t work.

 

It takes forever to find the elevator, and even longer to get to the sixth floor. She thinks she might burst from anticipation and worry as she hurriedly makes her way down the hallways, frantically looking for room 617 until she finds it and hears Killian’s voice. It’s weak, but it’s Killian’s voice.

 

“No, you don’t understand,” he pleads, his voice slightly slurred and cracking the smallest bit, “I need to call my girlfriend. I don’t have a phone, and I know she hasn’t been notified yet. She’s going to be freaking out because she doesn’t know where I am.”

 

“I can’t give you my phone, sir. If she’s your emergency contact, she should be notified. Or you can wait and ask for the phone of the man who brought you in.”

 

“Hi,” she croaks, and Killian whips his head toward her so fast that she sees the grimace on his face from where his shoulder is obviously hurting him at the sudden jerky movement.

 

“Emma,” he breathes, and she’s never been so relieved to see him.

 

Ever.

 

“So that the girlfriend then?” the nurse questions, disdain practically dripping from his voice, and what’s everyone in this hospital’s problem? Is everyone just pissed all of the time?

 

“That’s the girlfriend.”

 

The nurse leaves them be, and she slowly walks over to him, dropping the bag to the ground as she surveys him. He looks like Killian, but he’s definitely paler than usual. His face is gaunt, probably like hers, and his hair is sticking to his head where there’s a small cut stitched up on his forehead. There are gauzes all over his left shoulder, and an IV in his arm. It’s not something she wants to see, and her heart breaks yet again at the sight, the remaining pieces landing somewhere in her still uneasy stomach.

 

“What happened, Killian?”

 

He looks up at her and smiles, even if it is a little pained, and it calms her the smallest bit because if he’s awake and can smile and speak pretty coherently, he has to be fine, right? How many times has she thought those words, whether in that order or all jumbled up? It has to be a lot.

 

But he has to be fine.

 

“I must say, you look good. Standing there all commanding, asking me what happened.”

 

She rolls her eyes, and, yeah, he’s most definitely fine. “I’m so mad at you. How dare you get shot!”

 

“Wasn’t exactly my intention, love.” He motions to the right side of the bed, the opposite of his injured arm, and pats the small sliver of space that he’s not taking up on the bed. “Come sit, Swan.”

 

“Am I even allowed to do that?”

 

“I’m fine, darling. It’s just a scratch, and I want you to sit with me.”

 

She hesitates but for a moment before crawling onto the bed, turning on her side and tucking herself around his waist while he wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her hairline. He smells like antiseptic and hospital, and she’s not okay with that. That’s not Killian.

 

And obviously it’s not just a scratch.

 

She’ll just have to ask his doctor what the hell happened since he’s obviously going to take some coaxing to get the real story out of him.

 

“Oh, I brought you some of your stuff if you want it. Like your pillow and blanket and favorite pants. I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do. David called me, and…and, I-I, uh…”

 

Oh damn, she’s crying. She thought seeing that he was okay and holding him and hearing him joke around would make it all better, but it’s not. It’s not better. He could have died, and then what was she going to do? He’d be dead. The man she loves would be dead, and there would be no way to bring him back. He’d just be gone, and she’d be left empty. She’d be left empty, and no one would ever know that she loved Killian and that he loved her. She can’t…she couldn’t live like that. She can’t.

 

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Killian whispers, the sound barely coming out over the sound of her sobs while he rubs up and down her back and she lets all of the salty tears fall onto his hospital gown, “it’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.”

 

How is he the one who was shot, and she’s the one who’s having a breakdown?

 

“You didn’t answer any of your texts all day,” she croaks, even if she knows it’s the most irrational thing to be worried about at this moment in time. “And that started this morning, so it meant that whatever the hell happened to you, happened early. It happened early, and I had no damn idea. You could have died. You could have been gone. You could have left me.”

 

She’s not looking at him, but she can feel the breath he takes from the way his chest moves under her head. “I’d never leave you, Emma.”

 

“How do you know that? Almost everyone I’ve ever loved has left or run away or done something to not be near me, and I almost lost you today.”

 

“Not by my choice, love. I’d never leave you by choice. Surely you have to know that by now.”

 

She does, but her emotions are all over the place. All she can do is rest her head on his chest and breathe in that awful antiseptic smell. He’s the one who got shot, and yet she’s the one who’s having to be comforted. Something about that just doesn’t seem right.

 

“What even happened? How did you get shot?”

 

“Dave and I were investigating a case, a domestic abuse incident, and when we got to the house to ask some questions, the husband shot me before I could even take a step up on the front porch. His wife and kids are fine, though. David got them all to safety and the husband is in jail.”

 

“How can you possibly be so calm about getting shot and then having surgery to remove the bullet? Shouldn’t you be freaking out?”

 

“Oh, it fucking hurts, love,” he laughs, and she chuckles a bit too despite herself, “but I’m on some incredible medication that makes it feel a little more dull than anything else. How are you feeling?”

 

“You’re the one in the hospital.”

 

“Aye, but you’re looking a little pale, love, and your limbs are shaking. I imagine you went through quite a bit of shock learning this from…David did you say? Why did David tell you?”

 

“He was just calling to ask about my day, and when I asked him, it just kind of casually came out. Like I found out because David decided to mention that he was leaving the hospital. What would have happened if he hadn’t?”

 

“I would have tackled that bloody nurse until he gave me his phone, arm be damned.”

 

* * *

 

He wakes in the middle of the night with his shoulder throbbing, a muted pulse that he knows is dulled by the medicine pumping through his veins. Fuck, this hurts, and as thankful as he is for the fact that he was shot in his shoulder, the bullet missing everything vital, he’s not exactly thrilled to be sleeping in an uncomfortable hospital bed instead of his bed at home with Emma.

 

Emma.

 

Where the hell is Emma?

 

He sits up, the sudden movement causing the pain in his arm to increase, small little stabs moving down his arm only to subside in moments, and his eyes scan the room looking for her. She was beside him in bed when he fell asleep, and she’s not anywhere to be seen, the room empty and shrouded in darkness except for the yellow glow of the bathroom light.

 

The bathroom. She must be in the bathroom.

 

He should leave her be, not bother her, but modesty between them isn’t something that happens often. So he slowly gets out of bed, his legs wobbly beneath him, and heads to the door, his IV moving behind him until he knocks on the door, slowly easing it open.

 

“Emma, love, are you – ”

 

When the door swings open, he can see that she’s kneeled on the ground, her face pressed against the lid of the toilet seat while the room smells like a mixture of antiseptic and bile. It’s…repulsive, and something is wrong with Emma.

 

Shit.

 

“Don’t come closer,” she pleads, her voice hoarse and broken, and it’s only when she looks up at him that he sees how very hollow her face looks, like she hasn’t simply been vomiting for the past few minutes but for days. “I don’t know what’s wrong, and you can’t afford to get sick.”

 

“Emma, if you’ve got some sort of illness, I’ll catch it no matter if I come closer or not. We share all of the same air, the same space.”

 

“That’s true,” she agrees, even if she doesn’t seem convinced in his argument.

 

He inches closer, the damn IV trailing behind him, until he’s looping his good arm under her shoulder and pulling her up, her legs possibly weaker than his were a moment ago, until she’s propped up against the counter which holds the sink. It’s vile in here, so he reaches over and flushes the toilet before moving to wash his hands before cupping Emma’s face, his shoulder protesting at the movement.

 

“What’s wrong? Do you…do you have any idea?”

 

“No,” she whimpers, and he sees her gulp, the movement running through her throat. “I threw up when I found out you’d been…you’d been shot, and I thought it was just the shock. But you’re here and you’re fine, and yet it’s still happening. There’s nothing left in my stomach, and it’s _still_ happening. All of the dinner I ate is gone.”

 

“Have you eaten something bad? Do you have a bug? What if…”

 

Oh shit. She’s pregnant. She has to be pregnant. How did he not see it before? How did she not see it before? She’s been lethargic for the past two weeks or so, and now she’s vomiting at all hours of the day. And when the hell was the last time she had her period? He can’t…he can’t remember, and even though it’s not something he keeps track of, Emma’s not shy about sharing and asking for him to buy her whatever she’s craving…Craving. If she’s pregnant, she’ll start craving things, and then oh damn. He’s getting ahead of himself, but the idea is already planted inside of his mind. He could be a dad.

 

_A dad._

 

“What if what, babe?” She groans, leaning forward and resting her forehead against his good shoulder, the sweat on her forehead soaking through his hospital gown.

 

“Sweetheart, what if you’re pregnant?”

 

Her entire body tenses beneath his touch, and she moves her head back to stare at him, her eyes widened and her face even more gaunt under the harsh hospital lights.

 

“P-pregnant? I can’t be pregnant. I’m on the pill. I – we’re…oh shit, Killian. Am I pregnant?”

 

He chuckles at her reaction, and he needs so sit down, his body still shaky, and so he leads her out of the bathroom until they both settle back down onto the bed, their fingers intertwined as he kisses the clammy skin of her forehead.

 

“I don’t know, darling, but it’s possible, right? You’re exuding all of the symptoms, and while today could simply be the stress, it’s not just been today. Do you…do you want to take a test?”

 

“I mean, I’d kind of like to know if we’re going to be back here with a human coming out of my body…would you – would you be okay if I was pregnant?”

 

“I’d be thrilled.”

 

He’s always wanted to be a dad, thought he and Emma would get around to it eventually, but he never thought it would be so soon. And he really never thought they’d possibly find out while he was in the hospital for a gunshot wound. But he would be thrilled, absolutely. He’d be the happiest gunshot victim in the world.

 

Maybe just the happiest man in the world.

 

“We’re not married. We’re not even officially living in one place…oh God, Killian. What are we going to do?”

 

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?”

 

“But – ”

 

He brings their hands to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles, trying to calm her before she freaks out. He already knows that she’s going to freak out. “It’s obviously not an ideal situation, but that’s life. It always hits you when you least expect it, but we can handle it. I think we’d be damn good parents, and this’ll be quite the story to tell one day. Though, I do think we should find out if you’re pregnant or not first.”

 

“Probably a good idea.”

 

“Let’s take a test then, darling.”

 

* * *

 

She’s pregnant.

 

Oh my God, she can’t believe that she’s pregnant.

 

This is…this isn’t real, but it is. She has the results of her blood test sitting in her lap, and it very clearly says that she’s pregnant.

 

She’s going to vomit, and it’s going to have nothing to do with this stupid morning sickness that she’s suddenly started having. She was so calm (relatively speaking) earlier this morning when Killian pointed out that she might be pregnant, but she thinks she was in some kind of haze. She’d been vomiting for what felt like hours, and her heartbeat never quite returned to a normal level after she found out Killian had gotten shot. God, how much crazier can her life get? This is like some kind of lifetime movie, except Killian didn’t die and she’s not going to be attacked by some kind of knife-wielding psycho who wants her baby.

 

_Her baby._

_Their baby._

 

She’s having a baby.

 

It’s just, none of this seems possible, but there is apparently a life growing inside of her and has been for ten weeks. That’s almost an entire trimester. How did she not notice? She can’t blame stress. She wasn’t really stressed about anything before Killian got shot (if she keeps thinking the words, eventually they’ll become normal, right?). Well, that’s not true. They were going to tell David about them, and that was kind of stressful and…oh shit. David.

 

They never got to tell David, and now not only does she have to tell him that she’s been keeping this secret from him for a year but also that she’s having a baby.

 

David’s going to have a heart attack.

 

She’s going to vomit again.

 

She scrambles out of her chair next to Killian’s bed, Killian fitfully sleeping as it’s only just now six in the morning, and runs to the bathroom only to end up dry heaving into the toilet. There’s nothing left in her body for her to lose, but her body doesn’t seem to know this. God, this is miserable. How do women do this?

 

After brushing her teeth (she most definitely bought a pack of toothbrushes from the 24-hour pharmacy in the hospital lobby), she goes back into the room, carefully crawling into Killian’s bed and fitting herself in the open spot next to his side. He almost immediately adjusts his arm and moves it around her shoulder before tugging her back into his side and pressing his lips against her permanently sweat-soaked forehead.

 

This is also disgusting.

 

“You okay, love?” he mumbles against her hairline, the quiet words almost not reaching her ears.

 

“Yeah. It’s just a lot. This is a lot and I-I’m a little over…overwhelmed. I don’t,” she sniffles wiping her nose on his hospital gown and not caring how disgusting it is, “I don’t know how any of this has happened. You almost died, and what if you had? What if you had died, and then I found out I was pregnant? I couldn’t do this without you. I wouldn’t want to. Killian, what if you were dead right now?”

 

“We already talked about this, love. I’m not dead. I’m fine. You know that I’m fine.”

 

“But I can’t stop thinking about if this had gone some other way, especially now that I know that I’m pregnant. I c-can’t.”

 

Damn hormones.

 

She’s going to say damn hormones all of the time now, isn’t she?

 

“Shush, darling,” he soothes, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, “I’m here. Don’t do this to yourself, love. Don’t keep thinking of how it could have been and think about how it actually is. I’m alive. I’m fine. It’s just a small wound. It hurts like hell, but it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. I’m going home today, yeah? I’m going to go home, and we’re going to spend all day lounging in bed eating whatever you want talking about if our little love is going to be named Eugene or Constance.”

 

“She’s not going to be named Constance.”

 

“So he’ll be Eugene then.”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, and both of those names are out, okay?”

 

“Aye, I know. I just wanted to make you laugh.” She can’t feel his lips on her hair, but she knows that they’re there. “I love you, Emma.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

When she wakes later, her eyes bleary and vision blurred, it’s to find herself in the hospital bed alone, no Killian to be found. But when her vision comes back to her and she forces her sudden queasiness to subside, she sees her brother sitting on the chair next to the bed.

 

Oh.

 

Oooooh.

 

Oh no.

 

“David,” she croaks, her voice cracking and her heart beating erratically in her chest, the queasiness coming back and making her entire body ache, “what are you doing here?”

 

“Well good morning sunshine,” David greets, a smile on his face that seems uncharacteristic considering he has to know about she and Killian now. Where is Killian? There’s no way David just finds her asleep in Killian’s hospital bed and doesn’t know something’s up. Why is he sitting there so calmly?  Why is he sitting there to begin with? “Before you ask, Killian is down getting a scan on his shoulder so that they can release him in a few hours.”

 

“Did you…did you talk to him?”

 

“I did, and before you freak out again, since I can practically see the wheels turning in your head, he and I had a nice little chat about how he’s apparently your boyfriend.”

 

Oh fuck. That’s one way to let David know.

 

“And you’re not mad?”

 

“Oh, I’m pissed beyond belief, but I can’t exactly yell at a man who got shot yesterday.”

 

“You can’t yell at him to begin with.”

 

“Well why the hell not, Emma? He’s dating my sister, and I have every right to give him hell about that. And he kept it secret, so his intentions may be pure now, but if he wanted to keep you two a secret from me at one point, obviously they weren’t always.”

 

“First of all,” she begins, anger rising in her because she’s done with this big brother routine, “you have no right to give him hell, David. I am a grown woman who can make my own choices, and one of those choices was to keep _my_ relationship a secret from you. My choice. You’ve been scaring away guys since Neal, and I’m done with it. Done, David.”

 

Anger flashes in David’s face, and he may not be able to yell at Killian but there’s nothing keeping him from yelling at her. “I’m trying to protect you. You’ve never exactly been the best at picking out good guys.”

 

God, she loves this man, but he’s got a stick up his ass.

 

“How long is this going to go on? How long are you going to do this?”

 

“Until you find a man that’s good enough for you!”

 

“And you’re the judge of that?”

 

“I am.”

 

“You’re being ridiculous? Do you know that? Do you know how goddamn stupid you’re being?”

 

“I’m just trying to protect you! I don’t want you getting hurt again!”

 

“So what? You’re going to keep me from being happy then? Because I am happy now. You’re so scared of me getting hurt, so scared that you can’t protect me from all of the awful things in the world that you’re going to keep me in a little bubble where I can’t get hurt. Well guess what, David. It happened anyways, and it happened because of you. I’m not letting it happen again.”

 

“Emma, that’s not fair.”

 

“No,” she spits, her blood boiling and causing her entire body to heat with rage, “it’s not. It’s not fair to me. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m an adult, and every man is not Neal.”

 

“You don’t know that. Killian could screw you over just as quickly and as easily.”

 

Stick. Up. Ass.

 

“Killian is not Neal. You know that. You know how good of a guy he is. Goddamn it, David. You’ve got some misguided sense of chivalry where you scare guys off like we’re in some kind of hick town in the fifties.”

 

“Again, I’m trying to protect you! Neal – ”

 

“Fuck Neal,” she screeches, slamming her hands into her thighs before she starts pacing back and forth, running a path into the floor the hospital room. “Fuck him and all that he did. I was the one who went through that. I was the one who was in prison. I get that you were hurt by that too, that you were stressed, but if I’ve moved on, why can’t you?”

 

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt like that!” David bellows, his own hands slapping against his thighs before wiping away at his eyes. “You were a shell of yourself, Emma. And so what now? You were going to just keep it a secret forever? Live your entire life in the shadows? What about when you get married? When you have kids? Were you just going to keep that from me, too?”

 

The nausea she’s been keeping down suddenly comes back in full force, and before she runs to the bathroom, she picks her blood test up and tosses the paper in David’s face before practically sprinting to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

 

She doesn’t even get to leave the bathroom before the door is opening and David is cradling her in his arms, his hand cupping the back of her head and his lips pressed against her temple.

 

“Are you really pregnant, Emma?”

 

“Well,” she wraps her arms around his waist and sighs into the hug, nuzzling herself into David’s body and just feeling relieved that he’s not yelling at her anymore. She doesn’t have any fight left in her, and his arms are a familiar embrace that she didn’t realize she needed so badly. “that sure as hell isn’t Killian’s blood tests.”

 

She and David settle back into Killian’s room, and she just spills everything. Literally everything, from how she and Killian met to every single reasoning behind why she’s kept it hidden from David. Mostly she just tells David how happy she is, how happy she and Killian both are, and she only stops when she sees David’s eyes glistening with tears.

 

“I can’t…I can’t believe I’ve been such an ass that my own sister can’t share things with me. You’re having a baby, and I didn’t even know you were in love.”

 

She places her hands over his in his lap and squeezes. “I love you, but the whole big brother schtick is getting old. You can be protective of me and show how much you care, but you can’t be overbearing on my life. I can make my own decisions, my own choices. You have to trust me.”

 

His hands rub up and down her back, soothing her and making her eyes weary. This has all been so exhausting, and just spilling everything to David feels like a two-ton anchor has been lifted off of her shoulders.

 

“I’ve always trusted you. I guess I just never realized how awful I was being. You’ve never said anything.”

 

“I have, but sometimes I think you see me like one of your cases. You get so focused that you don’t realize what’s going on around you.” She hits her shoulder into his before resting her head there. “I’m sorry that I kept things from you, but maybe we can try to work on that now, especially since I have a feeling I’m going to really need you and Marg when the baby comes because wow am I unprepared for this. And I’m also really going to need you to make sure Killian doesn’t get shot again, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Killian adds in, his voice coming from the doorway where she finds him being wheeled in by a nurse. She bets he really hated having to be wheeled back and forth from his tests. “I’d like to not get shot again either.” Killian gets up from the chair, flashing a grin at the nurse who practically swoons at her boyfriend, and she just knows that he’s been charming the woman this entire time. “So I see you two have talked. We all good? I’m not going to get shot by David next?”

 

Emma chuckles before getting up from the bed along with David and helping Killian move into the bed. He’s changed into the pajamas she brought him, his feet in those hospital socks with the pads at the bottom, and his arm in a sling so he doesn’t move his arm too much. He wasn’t wearing that yesterday, so they obviously put him in it today after his tests. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes almost purple and the lines of his face a little more defined. But he’s got a smile on his face as he fusses at her for trying to help him sit when he’s not a bloody invalid.

 

“You should sit, love. Rest. You’re pregnant, and you’ve had a rough few hours.”

 

“I’m pregnant, not a bloody invalid,” she repeats his own words back to him before leaning down and pressing a kiss against his lips, completely forgetting David’s in the room until she hears a pointed cough.

 

“Not that I’m not, you know, totally on board with my friend and partner dating my sister, but, uh, the affection’s going to take some getting used to.”

 

“Why Dave? You don’t want to see us kissing? I’d hate to see how you react when you find out how children are made.” Killian winks at David before looking back at her. “I’m assuming he knows about that, right? I didn’t tell him because I thought you’d like to do that, but I would have bloody blown the whole thing a second ago.”

 

“Yeah, I know about the baby. I also know that you’re right lucky I can’t so much as flick your shoulder while you’re still in the hospital.”

 

“Never thought I’d be thankful to have a bullet wound.”

 

Killian is released from the hospital later that afternoon, right after he’s forced to eat jello (why do people eat this when they’re not in the hospital?), with instructions to go to physical therapy for his shoulder once a week until his therapist clears him. David drives them back to Killian’s apartment and after helping to get Killian all settled in, the pain medicine he’s on making him the slightest bit loopy, he promises to call so that they can talk some more about everything, hugging and kissing Emma some more before telling her that David Junior is a wonderful name for a baby.

 

Eugene, Constance, and David Junior are all officially out of the running.

 

Killian’s weeks of rehab grate on him. His arm ends up having less mobility than the doctors expected, especially right after his surgery, and him being on desk duty doesn’t help how frustrated he is with everything. It’s…difficult on the two of them, especially while they look for a new place to live, and while she is no stranger to the arguments they’ve gotten in before, every little snap seems heightened. She’s always hated blaming things on hormones, some sort of irrational irritant about how people think just because women are hormonal means they can’t do certain things (not true in the slightest, thank you very much), but dammit. She’s now four months pregnant, something has taken over her body, and she cried over them being out of milk this morning.

 

Screw whoever said don’t cry over spilled milk. She wanted some cereal.

 

Okay, so she knows that’s not exactly what the saying is about, but she thinks it applies.

 

It doesn’t help that she’s out of a job on top of everything. She can’t exactly chase skips down anymore, and when she’d told her employer, there wasn’t a spot for her to just do desk work. So now she sits around at the apartment looking for places that will employ someone who, even though she was cleared of all crimes, does have some sort of record. She’s taken up a bit of private investigating, spending her days sitting in her car taking pictures while Killian texts her from his desk at work.

 

They make quite the pair in their pathetic job situations, but like everything else they’ve ever done, they persevere.

 

And they do it together.

 

They find out they’re having a boy, and Killian brags on how he guessed right for the entire week after the appointment. He also comes home with three books filled with baby names.

 

“You know we can just look these things up on the internet, right?”

 

“Aye, but I like some things to be a little old fashioned, my love.”

 

David and Mary Margaret become a much bigger part of their lives, and while David took a little while longer after their initial conversation in the hospital to come to terms with she and Killian (and all of the emotions behind it), Mary Margaret took to it like a fish in the water. She was so excited, maybe a bit too excited really, and when she found out about the baby, Emma was pretty sure that the poor woman was going to pass out.

 

So, yeah, definitely too excited.

 

But it was nice for her family to be her family again, secrets and lovers (okay, okay, so lover isn’t exactly the right word to call Killian…though he is a hell of a lover) exposed to everyone. Yeah, it’s frustrating to have David and Mary Margaret err on the side of overwhelming sometimes, but her entire life was in a bit of upheaval there and it’s nice to have a little extra help and love.

 

Months pass and things change, her stomach (and ankles, feet, boobs, face, thighs) included, and she grows closer to Killian than she ever has before. His arm heals to full mobility, and it’s always wrapped around her shoulder or her stomach as they move into a new two-bedroom apartment or go on frequent, actual dates.

 

You know, in public. Sometimes even on Killian’s lunch breaks…with David.

 

Pregnancy has its moments. She likes the way her baby feels like a fish for awhile, but she doesn’t like that the fish eventually starts kicking at her ribs and making her pee all of the time. Like, all of the damn time. Shouldn’t there be a way to house a human being inside of you without having to pee every other second? She also kind of likes the way that Killian dotes on her, asking her what she wants to eat and then actually letting her eat like Buddy the Elf if she wants spaghetti and syrup. Okay, so she’d never actually want that particular meal, but one night she did want a meatball sub and a milkshake at about two in the morning. Killian found the sub but not the milkshake, and the sweet man simply went to the market and made the damn milkshake himself. But on the flip side of that, sometimes she’ll go to fix herself something to eat, and Killian will either fuss at her for moving around too much or for eating something that’s unhealthy. She’s pretty sure she can only convince him to do the milkshake thing when he’s sleep weary.

 

(He sang “my milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard” that first night while making it, and that’s something she’ll never forget.)

 

So basically every upside has a downside, but that also means every downside has an upside. She never really knows what’s going to happen next, but she figures things can’t get much crazier than your boyfriend getting shot, finding out you’re pregnant, and then your brother finding out about your secret relationship with his partner all within twenty-four hours.

 

Well, at least for now.

 

She does have a tiny human that looks a little like her and a little like Killian screaming his head off at three in the morning, and that might be the craziest thing of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the prompt that started this thing. It was actually one of the very first ones I got, so, Anon, I'm sorry that it took so long to get to it, but it's here :D
> 
> "Mmm can you write a fic? One shot? where Emma and Killian are dating but David didn't know it until Killian got Emma pregnant lmao, and David gets really mad because Emma never told him that she has a boyfriend and because Killian is his co worker or something"

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a prompt story that I got about Emma and Killian being in a secret relationship without David (Emma's brother here) knowing. I got about four of these, all with different little details, so I've made it a little multi-chapter to get it all in instead of putting it in the prompt work "If You Ask Nicely." It shouldn't be too long, and I've got it all plotted out! I hope you enjoy :D


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